


The Boy Who Didn't Have A Choice

by Frosthammer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Songfic, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosthammer/pseuds/Frosthammer
Summary: Based on the song 'Scars' by IAMX. "And though I have these scars,I hold no grudges; it's my destiny.I got so used to winning,Now I do my best, baby, to take it on the chin.I've made mistakes,But I'm not haunted because your love gives me the strength..."





	

"I've been trying to think of who cursed me... but I just can't. I'm sorry, Harry." Katie Bell said, frustratedly, sighing as she shrugged her shoulders, looking into Harry's pine-green eyes. It was no use. Harry began to struggle, scrambling through his brain for any more possible evidence, when he caught the other Gryffindor's line of sight, and how she stared in something akin to recognition at someone down the hall.

A certain white haired person, with sharp features and green robes. Malfoy's face betrayed him as he made eye contact with Harry, a guilty look flickering across his face like the faltering of a candle; brief, but most definitely present. Almost immediately, the Slytherin turned on his heel and began hastily walking away, in the opposite direction. Harry's brow relaxed, lowering in realisation, and he began following the blond, keeping a keen eye on him, so as not to lose him in the throngs of students. 

 _'Keep calm. You're going to be okay.'_ Draco chanted to himself, inwardly, walking much more quickly than usual, his sterling silver eyes wide and electrified, and yet dark with the bloody circles that lined them and hollowed out his face with fatigue, eating away at him. His heart rate had almost doubled, and on the inside, he was panicking, truly. The Slytherin kept a stiff upper lip, drawing in a deep breath and looking back over his shoulder, momentarily. He almost 'yipped' with frantic desperation, and his analytical brain began searching everywhere,  _anywhere_ to run and possibly hide. He  _knew_ that he was in trouble, he  _knew_ what awaited him from the moment he saw the darkness and the anger in Harry's eyes.

 _'Merlin's beard, get off my case!'_ He thought, getting very agitated very quickly, his heart rate still on the incline... and then he felt it. He felt the wave of sheer terror and anxiety that washed over him, and he jogged the rest of the way, spying the bathroom and quickly running into it. He didn't care if Moaning Myrtle was in there, this time. 

He felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes out of pure fear, though he held it all back, keeping a stiff upper lip, though hyperventilating as he splashed the water over his face in hopes of at least calming himself down a little bit. His thoughts were racing back and forth, from Harry to Katie, to his family, to the expectations placed upon him. He was already starting to crumble, the seriousness of his situation dawning upon him, coupled with his lack of control.

It was his lack of control that finished him off; his greatest fear having been brought to life.  _He didn't even have control over his own actions any more._

The things he did to please his parents. 

He looked at his knuckles as they gripped the porcelain of the sink, saw how bruised and reddened they were from his stress and pent up anger, looked up into the mirror to see his face, pale and gaunt, looking inches away from Death itself. He saw the devil within, re-enacting how he had torn his hair out, how the capillaries in his eyes had burst under the pressure, how those dark circles seemed to be hammered into his skull with his lack of sleep. Terror had made him cruel. He splashed his face again.  _Control your emotions._

He'd forgotten that Harry had been following him by the time the next wave of panic struck him, and he hurled forwards, his shoulders hunching as he let out a cross between a sob, a gasp for air and a cough, his arms shaking with his hysterics.  _He wasn't in control anymore._  The thought itself knocked all the air, the life, the hope out of him. It sent him falling face first into a vast abyss of the unknown, an unfamiliar pathway of which he wasn't yet ready to take. He hadn't prepared. He hadn't planned this. 

"I know what you did, Malfoy." Draco's heart shot up into his mouth, abruptly made aware of the other's position, "You hexed her, didn't you?" 

 _'No, no, no; you don't understand!'_ Malfoy's anxiety quickly turned back into agitation, heightened to rage, and he growled out his instability before blindly, violently shooting the first curse he could think of in Harry's direction, with a shout of distress, his chest heaving, ' _Just leave me alone! Let me be!"_

The Gryffindor ran, and he stumbled to the side, his brow glistening with a thick sheen of sweat and water, wand now at the ready. His hand trembled in alarm, his mind in a frenzy. He saw Harry's curse flying towards him and he ducked rather promptly, his heart rate still on the incline.

_He didn't want this._

His anger took over, controlling him, and he shot another curse back, to which the Gryffindor dived behind the wall, out of sight. Draco's heart was so loud that he could hear the blood rushing in his temples, up his throat, in his chest. His skin became colder, his face warmer, his hands shakier. He wasn't even sure whether or not he'd manage to hit Harry with any of his hexes (not that he particularly wanted to). He was good under pressure, useless when truly frightened. 

_Where was he...?_

It was almost as though it was controlled, Harry giving Draco the chance to calm down, however the more he attempted to calm himself, the more wound up he was getting. He took a deep breath and ducked beneath the stalls, knowing that Harry was on the other side. 

He shot a ribbon of white light across the room, before legging it once more, frightened out of his own wits. He saw Harry across the bathroom and his body froze up, partially out of fear, partially out of pure interest. Half of him had hoped that Harry would have tried to reason with him, giving him time to scamper, but the Gryffindor clearly saw it as a stand-off, and shouted some sort of unknown curse at him, and just as he tried to jump out of the way, it hit him, smack in the middle of his chest. 

It was as though he had plunged a sword straight through him. 

What sort of horrendous magic was this...? As he was swallowed by pure agony, he looked upon himself, his mind fluttering, and he gasped for air, wondering if he was drowning within himself. This was pain beyond measure. All he could see was red: violent, passionate red, blossoming out around him like ink across a page, like poison seeping through tea. 

_Oh, G-God...!_

Each breath was excruciatingly painful, and he began coughing, gasping for air, choking out sounds of distress as he lay there in a pool of his own blood. His muscles began twitching, sending violent spasms throughout his pale body, the colour draining from his face.

_What have you done to me...? Harry, make it stop...!_

His stress was doubled when he saw a familiar, cloaked figure hovering over him.

_I don't want **your** help. Get away from me. You are no friend to Albus Dumbledore-_

He was cut off by a cry of agony, surprised that it came from his own mouth. He was in shock, and quite frankly surprised that it hadn't caused him to pass out yet. 

He didn't usually take very well to physical pain. His eyes rolled back into his damaged, shaken little head.


End file.
